Blood Red Roses Pt. 1
by morgan1
Summary: Sequel to He's on the Phone - Wesley goes to visit Cordelia the morning after their phone call...


Title: Blood Red Roses (sequel to He's On The Phone) 

Author: Mary-Jane Roebuck

Feedback: No flames, they scare me. If you don't like the idea of Cordy & Wesley as a couple, please don't read this fic. Anti-character or anti-C/Wes flames will be ignored so don't bother. 

Rating: R (15) for mental torture

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Joss, the WB, Mutant Enemy and multiple other entities. Interpretation of the characters is entirely my own. 

Spoilers: Set after the end of 'Angel' season 1. For the purposes of this story, Angel Investigations is operational, but at a different (temporary) location. 

Summary: The action follows directly on from 'He's On The Phone' (archived at Wesleyan Aria & So Classy), during which Wesley and Cordy confessed their feelings for each other during a phone call. This story is darker in tone and more angsty than its predecessor. 

Thanks to: Everyone who gave me nice feedback on the first one and asked for a sequel. You all know who you are. 

Special thanks to Crystal, for providing the inspiration (and one of the lines) for Cordy's rant. 

Note: I stole the title from one of the 7:84 Theatre Company's 1970s productions. 

  
  


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Wesley had to walk around the block several times before he worked up the courage to enter Cordelia's apartment building. Even though the bouquet of roses he was carrying was too large to hide behind his back, but he still attempted to do so. It took him five minutes of shifting nervously from foot to foot before he managed to knock on the door.

He almost fled when there was no immediate answer. Maybe she's still asleep, he thought. We talked for a long time last night. Too long. I should still be in bed, but I wanted to.. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to look at her and know that she feels the same way about me that I do about her. 

"Wesley?"

She was still wearing her pyjamas. No dressing gown. He took a deep breath, but she began speaking again before he could force any words out of his mouth. 

"What time do you.. It's HOW early?"

"8.30 am." Not the most romantic words in the world, but at least he'd managed to say something. 

She started to rub the sleep from her eyes. She still hadn't invited him to come in. Maybe she was having problems with Phantom Dennis again. Maybe. 

"I should be on my way to work now, huh? That is, if we still had an office."

Wesley sighed. Sometimes he wondered how much attention Cordelia paid to the real world. 

"Cordelia. It's Saturday. Angel is out of town. We don't have to go anywhere. We don't have to spend hours researching obscure demons. We don't have to stake out buildings on the off-chance of getting a lead. It's the weekend. The forces of darkness can wait, and we can just ... be." 

Cordelia gave him a puzzled look, but she finally let him into her apartment. He hoped this was a good sign. 

"So" - she folded her arms - "What do you want to just .. be?"

Wesley took another deep breath. 

"I want.. after our .. conversation last night, I thought I should .. we should.."

"Okay. Stop right there. What conversation?"

"You telephoned me and we .. talked for a long time." 

Wesley tried to ignore his rising sense of panic. He knew that the whole thing had been too easy. Too good to be true. 

Cordelia arranged her features into something resembling a scowl. 

"I had an early night last night. No phone calls. I would've remembered." 

"Oh. So you don't remember .. telephoning me?"

"Fraid not."

"Because"- he took yet another deep breath - "Last night I told you .. or I thought I told you... something very important." 

"Oh. What was that?"

"I told you that I loved you."

There was a pause. She couldn't deny that she'd heard him saying it this time. He watched in total dismay as she stared at him in bewilderment. 

"But you were joking, right?" 

He stared in blank disbelief as Cordelia continued. 

"Wesley, I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't call you last night, unless I was sleepwalking. We didn't speak at all." 

Sleepwalking. That was it. The whole thing had been a trick of the imagination. He must have fallen asleep and dreamed about telling Cordelia that he loved her. And now, he'd told her for the first time in this clumsy, half-baked way. He cursed his stupidity. His presumption in coming to her apartment at this time in the morning. He hadn't slept at all last night, and it was beginning to show. 

"I was entirely serious. But since you obviously don't remember anything, let's just draw a line under the whole thing and forget I ever said anything." 

Cordelia turned sharply to face Wesley. He saw that her expression was one of fury, and steeled himself for what was to come. 

"Okay, Wesley, could you please tell me what's going on here because I'd really like to know. You barge into my apartment in practically the middle of the night to tell me .. let's get this straight .. that we had a phone conversation last night while I was asleep. During which you told me that you loved me. And I didn't laugh at you. What are you, on crack or something? Why the hell would I ever .. just forget it, okay? You're a loser. You screwed up royally while you were in Sunnydale and then you waltz into Angel Investigations calling yourself a rogue demon hunter. And then you prove to be a total liability by getting yourself kidnapped, tortured and blown up with pretty awesome regularity. You have no life outside of your books. You're about as interesting as root canal surgery. If I ever want to identify a demon by its bodily excretions, I'll give you a call, but till then..." 

Wesley had always wondered what it felt like to have a broken heart. And now he knew. He somehow managed to force words out of his mouth. 

"Cordelia .. Miss Chase .. I'm sorry that I upset you. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry that you ever had to endure my presence, both in Sunnydale and here in Los Angeles. I thought you had .. some regard for me, even if you didn't return my feelings for you. Obviously, I was mistaken. I think I should leave." 

Cordelia looked bored, distracted even. She began playing with her hair. 

Wesley made a move towards the door, then turned back. He felt that he should at least say something. This might be the last time they ever saw each other. 

"Cordelia .. goodbye." 

A cliche, but what else could he say? "I love you and I always will"? "Nice knowing you"? "Have a nice life"? Suddenly, words seemed entirely inadequate. He wanted nothing else but to hold her, kiss her goodbye, but he knew that was an impossibility. He looked at her for one last time. She wore a blank expression. No puzzlement, no anger. She seemed entirely neutral, almost emotionless. Wesley didn't know why, but it scared him. 

  
  


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Wesley forced himself to walk - not run - out of Cordelia's apartment building. He continued to walk until he reached his apartment, over a mile away. He climbed the stairs to his small room and locked the door behind him. For a few minutes, he simply stood in the middle of the room, trying desperately to find any rational explanation for Cordelia's behaviour, but it always came back to the same factor. She'd finally seen through him. Seen him for the worthless failure and fraud that he was, that he always had been and always would be. How could he ever have been stupid and arrogant enough to believe that she would return his affection, his love? 

He looked down at his hands and realised that he was still carrying the roses. His first impulse was to throw them away, but then he calmly put them down on his small side table and removed the cellophane wrapping. Then he took several of the roses by their stems and dug the thorns deep into the palms of his hand. The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional turmoil inside his head. He looked down at the blood on the palms of his hands with total detachment. 

And then, for the first time in years, Wesley found himself crying. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Cordelia rubbed her eyes. Had Wesley just been here, or was it just her imagination? And why were stray rose petals all over her living room floor?   
She bent down to pick one of the petals up, noticing that it was still flecked with dew. As she straightened up, she came face to face with .. something that didn't have a face. She didn't even get a chance to scream. 

  
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *   
  
After a few minutes of - as his father would have put it - wallowing in his feelings, Wesley couldn't say that he felt any better. He had, however, come to a decision about what he should do in the immediate future. He picked up the telephone and dialled the number of Angel Investigations' temporary base. 

Of course, Cordelia's voice was on the answerphone, and the shock of hearing it again so soon suddenly reminded him that his last telephone conversation had been his confession to Cordelia the previous night. The sudden rush of pain nearly made him hang up. Instead, he managed to stammer out a message.   
'Angel, it's Wesley. I'm afraid I have to return home .. that is, to England .. immediately. Something urgent has come up with regards to my family.'   
A lie, but a plausible one.   
Wesley remembered with a stab of pain the moment when Cordelia had said that he and Angel were her family. The moment last night when he'd thought the same thing. Not any more, he thought. He replaced the receiver and entered his bedroom. It didn't take long to pack his clothes and the few possessions that he'd need on his journey. Living as a rogue demon hunter had taught him to travel light. He looked around the shabby room - it had never been a home - and knew that he wouldn't miss it. How could he ever have considered bringing Cordelia to such a place? He couldn't give her the life she deserved. 

She was right - he was a loser and the brutal truth was that she - that everyone - would be better off without him.   
He wasn't sure what he should do with everything he couldn't carry. After a few moments' indecision, he scribbled out a short letter to Angel, asking him to remove and store the remainder of his possessions and adding his spare key.   
He dropped it through the door of Angel's temporary office on his way to the airport.   


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

  


The first thing Cordelia noticed when she came round was that the owner of   
wherever she was obviously had no clue about basic concepts of   
interior decoration. It was some kind of basement, filled with all kinds of   
junk. She could hear voices in the distance, but her head hurt so badly that   
she couldn't make any sense of what she was hearing. Then there was a sudden   
murmur, and it seemed as though the shadows closed in upon her. And then there was pain. It felt like nothing she'd ever experienced. 

  
  
  
  


To be continued...


End file.
